


Unnecessary Unsettlement

by Zhen_Zhen



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort, Cristiano Ronaldo - Freeform, El Clásico, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, FC Barcelona, FIFA World Cup 2014, Football, Football | Soccer, La Liga, Lionel Messi - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Canonical Character(s), Real Madrid CF, Rivalry, Secret Relationship, Self-Denial, Slash, World Cup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:12:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhen_Zhen/pseuds/Zhen_Zhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cristiano cannot understand his unsettled and unsure feelings on watching Lionel Messi fail to win with Argentina at the World Cup.</p><p>Initially he deals with it in the only way he possibly can - head on, guns blazing, shields engaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unnecessary Unsettlement

**Author's Note:**

> Was contacted by a fellow football fan and friend at the end of the World Cup on Sunday who asked very nicely if I could write something to make her feel a bit better about it all (not just the Argentina loss, but the end of the World Cup in general :(! ). 
> 
> Told me to surprise her when it comes to any pairing or storyline. Thought it was going to be a little short one-shot sort of thing, but then I got carried away as I've been thinking over a fic like this with this possible pairing for a while. Now intended to be a multi-chapter thing! 
> 
> After reading it she asked me if I would post it here so she could share with a few other friends and made me promise to update with chapters! It has been a long while since I've shared anything I've written! So yeah, if anyone else happens to stumble on this - well hello there! Hope you enjoy it :).

Noticing his mouth open not for the first time tonight he sighs first before pursing his slightly parted lips and sets his jaw once again, dark eyes flicking across the room at a large clock on the wall before flying back to the colourful display on the flat-screened television in front of him. He realises he is standing again, vaguely aware he had been half way between his seat on the plush damask - subtle and fashionable, of course - sofa and halfway towards standing for much of the last hour, maybe a touch longer.  
  
Gritted teeth join the set jaw and he reaches slowly behind him to the cushion of the sofa, then lowers himself slowly back on to the seat, attention once again rapt on the scene before him. Eighty-eight...eighty-nine...now a few minutes added. He counts them down almost sub-consciously and catches himself wince slightly as the full-time whistle blows. Nil-nil, Argentina vs. Germany. Allowing himself to relax back into the sofa now with a long breath through the nose, he closes his eyes for a moment, allowing his surprisingly tense muscles to loosen and his body to rest momentarily.  
  
Dully, he listens to the commentators voices coming from the television - they continue to discuss the match while images of the two teams play out. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know what is happening. Exhausted men lay flat out or slightly propped up on the ground, legs stretched out themselves or team aides and physiotherapists helping the stretch or shaking the leg. Some would be gulping down water, energy or exercise drinks others might be sucking the contents out from quick release carbohydrate based packets of gel. All will be tired - mentally and physically - the prospect of another thirty minutes of play daunting, even for the fittest. He had been there himself and it was easy to remember how it felt being in that position.  
  
Slowly he opens his eyes again as the commentators tone changes, his focus back on the screen now as the players once again take their positions, albeit slowly, on the pitch. Even the astonishingly loud, dramatic and passionate crowd is sounding restless, unsure - or perhaps that is purely his mood making it seem so. Once again the ball is moving and his dark brown eyes are back to follow and focussing on one player and numbered shirt in particular and unconsciously his body tenses and slowly begins to rise from the sofa, his mouth opening, lips parting and occasionally worrying his lower lip.

  
  
                                                                                                                            *****

  
  
Thirty-five minutes later and it was all over. Well, it was all over at around 23 minutes into the extra time. Then ten or so extra minutes played out after the goal from the young Mario Götze of the German team, of which he spent all of it standing close to the television. He had wanted to turn it off at that point, but although he held the remote control in his hand that he had grabbed from the coffee table to switch it off he somehow had not quite got there yet. Instead he had inched his way over to the television, and now stood within a foot or so of the screen, standing slightly to the side. He watches the unreadable expression on the Argentina's captains face and is suddenly very aware that he is not sure how to feel, how to react - the realisation sends his brain reeling.  
  
The sudden tone of his phone ringing yanks him out of his confusion. He snaps his arm up in front of him and mutes the television, his eyes still drawn to that same face and unreadable expression on the television. As he blindly walks towards the noise from his phone he notes that the person operating the camera seems to be much more interested in the Barcelona players reaction, rather than the ecstatic reactions and celebrations of the German team. Yes, it cycles among the scenes, but every other shot is the empty and uncomfortable expression on the forwards face. He finds his phone, eyes still on the television only momentarily drawn away to check the time again - near midnight for him now.  
  
"Yes?" he coughs, hearing the harshness from a dry mouth. "Hello?"  
"Cris. I don't suppose you are seeing this?" He recognises the voice of a close friend.  
"Seeing what?" he questions, knowing all too well, but playing it dumb for a moment, processing if it is something he wants to talk about with anyone at all.  
"The Argentina vs. Germany match?" comes the all too-happy sounding reply. His friends would expect him to be at least quietly pleased about the defeat, seeing his 'Greatest Rival' fail at this level, especially after Portugal could not even be dragged through their group. He thought he would be pleased to see it too. In all honesty, he wasn't particularly upset that Argentina had lost, of course, but watching his so-called rival play and fail...he couldn't explain how he was feeling right now. He didn't know himself, but it was making him uncomfortable and he hated the fact that he was not assured as to how he felt and to be at peace with it. Something had to be done.  
"Cris?" He realises he has spent much too long thinking.  
"Sorry, you woke me from sleep..." he lies "I would have thought that match ended much earlier, from your tone I assume Germany have taken it?" he finally replied.  
"Oh, sorry! Didn't realise the time I guess. Anyway, yes - Germany won, only one to nil, and only after extra-time, but they got it. I can record it if you like..." his friend suggests in a rather mean-spirited, but generally jovial way.  
"Ah, no no, no need to record it. I'm sure I will catch it replayed over and over again in the coming days," he assures his friend, "Anyway, I'll let you go to finish watching the remaining coverage and I can get back to my beauty sleep." he jokes mildly, lamely. He just wants to get off the phone.  
"Oh, ok then Cris. Well, sleep well then. See you soon."  
He returns the good byes and finally drops the phone to the coffee table with a sigh.  
  
By now some awards have been given - Neuer has received his Golden Glove, Messi his Golden Ball - Cristiano cannot help but notice that his expression never changes. He doesn't want to touch fans hands, he doesn't smile, he doesn't speak. He accepts it with the tiniest of nods and looks determined to get back down to the pitch. He gets his wish soon enough, hardly allowing Neuer time to start walking. No break yet though for the Argentine, time to lead his second-placed team back up for their medals, and once again there is no expression but perhaps an emptiness. Nothing. This bothers Cristiano more than anything else, makes him feel uncomfortable, makes him feel on edge. Why on earth does he feel this way about it, why does he feel so disconcerted. Not a feeling he was used to, not a feeling he welcomed.  
  
Annoyed with his own reaction he finally switches off the television almost angrily despite how hard it is to tear his concentration away from it. He paces as he considers how he feels, has the urge to turn it back on almost instantly, feels pathetic about that and resists the urge. Throws the remote several feet away to an armchair as he paces back and forth. It is late, yes, but he cannot rest, his mind is too active.  
  
The pacing and over thinking continues on for a while before he decides the only way to calm his mind and allow himself to relax is to be proactive about this. Figure out why. Face it head on like he always does. He smiles to himself just a little as he picks up his mobile phone once again and puts a call through to one of his agents. He doesn't care about waking her, doesn't even think about it in fact. He knows it will be a little time until he can make the contact he decides he wants to, needs to, with Messi, but he can deal with that wait as long as he knows it will happen. Amused by his own sudden determination - recognising that drive in himself that he was used to, he took comfort in THAT and pushed the uncomfortable, unsure, uncertain...unhappy feeling underneath that.  
  
Finally his agent picks up with a tired sounding 'Cristiano?'  
"I need you to get me a number..." he begins, a wide and pearly-toothed smile back in place.  
  



	2. Golden Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano's personal assistant manages her job well.
> 
> He prepares himself to make a very long distance call less than 24 hours after the World Cup final - but will it even be answered, and if it is, will the call be welcomed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First a big thank you for all the lovely support from the first chapter - all the reviews, comments, kudos etc really propelled me in to finishing up the second chapter and getting it out today. You guys have made me feel very welcome here and less nervous - so thank you for that! :)
> 
> I really hope you continue to enjoy this story! :)
> 
> And yes, I'm useless with chapter titles :P.

Letting out a relatively quiet and hoarse grunt, he untangles and then raises his arms out from the sheets that are more knotted than rested around his prone body on the large bed. His eyes remain closed for now as he uses his wrists and forearms as a shield from the strong beam of sun that had finally crept up his previously sleeping face enough to bother his closed eyes. Groaning again, he grabs a feathered pillow out from underneath his head and places it over his face, rolling onto his side at the same time to let the sun hit his naked back instead.  
  
A few moments pass in this position, but from the very moment he woke up his mind was racing, his heart was beating at least twice as fast as normal and for a few seconds he didn't understand why. Then he remembers. The match yesterday, the call to his agent. The tossing and turning all night and the lack of any real sleep. Becoming quite sure he would find no more rest; long, black eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, blearily, reaching across to a side table he feels around for the heavy wristwatch resting at the edge and brings it close to his eyes once found.  
  
"Eleven thirty...in...the morning..." he says out loud with absolute disgust dripping from his voice to absolutely no one but perhaps the sun that had dared to ruin the meagre few hours he had slept. The fact that Cristiano had left the blind open and not drawn the light curtain before he laid down last night at around five in the early hours of the morning had nothing to do with it, of course. He just hadn't been able to relax until then, after the phone call he had been wide awake, a sort of excitement and nervous energy had kept him that way. He had assumed it was the prevailing feeling that he was up to no good. He had spent several hours last night watching and rewatching the awards ceremony, not entirely sure what he was looking to see each time. Perhaps some sort of life or light in his rival's eyes? They seemed dead to him - bleak, and remained that way when he watched again, of course. He had finally gone to bed when the feeling of being up to no good gave way to feeling generally unsettled and it was no longer fun, interesting or comfortable.  
  
This morning he regarded the sunbeam as a personal affront. He sits up quickly, pulling himself to the edge of the bed and allowing his feet to rest on the plush carpet. His stomach still felt rather twisted and unsettled, he shakes his head as if that might help, as if to shake it off. Pulling the twisted sheets off entirely now and letting them fall onto the mattress behind him, he stands and stretches his torso like one might do when experiencing butterflies to try to ease them, but Cristiano doesn't recognise them as butterflies. He doesn't feel nervous exactly, he isn't quite sure what he feels and he cannot seem to push it down as easily as he did last night. Putting it down to lack of sleep and just pure tiredness in general, he considers it is probably just curiosity to see if his agent has yet to get back to him in regard to the requested number. Aha, that was it, of course. He smiles to himself as he feels his stomach begin to settle with this realisation along with the movement from his stretching.  
  
He is out of his bedroom and into the hallway on his way to the stairs down to the ground floor before he catches himself, raising an eyebrow at his own eager behaviour, he retraces several steps and decides to shower before rushing downstairs to turn on his phone and inspect his messages and calls. The distinct and somewhat puzzling feeling of teasing himself with a reward seems to settle over him, he rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the large shower room and closes the waterproof door behind him. There is no rush anyway - afterall - it is still early in other parts of the world and no one was expecting him. The recipient would most likely be mightily confused if they had been warned to expect this contact! The unsettled feeling, at least for now, had turned into a not at all unpleasant curiosity and eagerness. He felt like he had the upper hand on his odd and rapid emotions once again. The thought of the confusion he might cause had him chuckling to himself as with a hiss the shower tap is turned on and the water begins to beat down on him.  
  
  
                                                                                                                                           *****  
  
  
Cristiano sat in his brightly lit open kitchen, more windows than wall this room remained bright for most of the day, he liked it the majority of the time, it felt fresh and airy, this early afternoon he really didn't care. Dry all over after the shower, including hair, including a relatively relaxed style with minimal gel as it remained fairly short at the moment, despite how quickly it grew. He wasn't intending to go anywhere today, but he had dressed anyway, casual in dark coloured shorts and bright yellow polo style shirt, open at the neck. Nothing else but a watch, barefoot in his own house.  
  
On the breakfast bar style counter in front of him, he had a phone, a small tablet and a glass filled with fresh pineapple juice. Placing the tablet in front of him, he attached it to the socket in the kitchen wall, the cord already laid out for it. Grabbing his phone next he thumbed the power button, not realising he had held his breath as he did so until he lifted the juice to his lips, exhaling heavily before taking a long drink, downing over half of it in one long chug he only released the glass back down to the table as he heard the familiar startup sound of his phone. Impatiently he picks it up as the screen plays out a colourful pixels pattern and the sound stops. Brown eyes flick closer to the wall, checking the tablet, it too was close to being ready to use.  
  
A popular English term - a watched pot never boils...Cristiano sighs and places the phone back down and grabs the glass, throwing back the rest of the juice impatiently. This time when he sets the glass down heavily on its coaster and grasps the phone in front of him it is almost ready to use. Several blips - exactly what he wanted to hear, the fairly low key blips letting him know he had unread messages. Quickly he scrolls to the message window and flicks down the screen, scrolling through the rubbish until he sees three messages from his assistant, one sent that morning at around 8:30 in the morning, and then two sent interestingly at around the same time he had woken up in quick succession at about 11:30am. He opens the message sent at 8:30am first.  
  
"Far too early to get any particularly useful information it seems. I have an agent and landline number only, not sure if that is acceptable. Anyone would think he was currently out of the country..."  
  
Three numbers followed, all local to Barcelona local area codes, as far as he could tell. He tutted outloud and came out of the message, opening the next message sent just after he had woken.  
  
"Hear it is, as far as I can tell. I have not checked it as not 7am yet locally where the phone is located."  
  
One number followed, a mobile number, his assistant had helpfully provided the digits needed to make the call internationally too. "Aha." a quick smile to himself before narrowing his eyes, hoping she hadn't made any contact to check anything out, he quickly read the last message, wanting to send her a message back to not do anything else as soon as he possibly could.  
  
"I know it is none of my business, but you should really have an agent, assistant or manager of some sort contact his help or him first. Let me contact first for you, don't want to make trouble for yourself. Management probably don't want him disturbed at this time. V. busy. Nothing rash, please."  
  
On reading the last message Cristiano snorts and furrows his eyebrows. Oh, what a circus life was! He knew she was probably right, but he also knew there was no way he could wait until an arranged time, arranged meeting. It had to happen soon. Today. Quickly he sends a message back to her, telling her not to worry and not to interfere, he wasn't going to do anything terrible.  
  
He didn't think so anyway. Still holding the phone in one hand, he pulls the tablet towards him, logging in he checks out some local times and works it out to be just after 9am where he wants to place a call. Licking his lips, he pauses for a moment...too early? Can he wait? Patience? Nah. He is hitting the mobile number on his phone before he overthinks it anymore. His stomach flips as he puts the phone to his ear, staring at the local time on his tablet as he hears nothing for a little too long, suddenly it connects and the line begins to ring. Lip in his teeth, a little too tight for comfort, perhaps, as the line picks up he winces slightly at the accidental bite. The held breath is for nothing, as a pre-recorded answer from the phone company asks him to leave a message. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he cancels the call.  
  
Well, of everything that could have possibly played out in his head the most obvious going to answering service hadn't occurred to him. Even if Messi was awake, he might be letting any unknown numbers go straight to message. Of course he would. Ugh, what an idiotic thing for Cristiano not to consider.  
  
"Are you stupid?" he voices to just himself once again. Considering what to do, he doesn't take long to decide to send a text message instead. He wonders if to be upfront and say who it was - would Messi even believe it? Probably not. After considering for a few moments he sends the following message.  
  
"Messi. Lets talk about what I saw on television last night. That drained spirit. Lifeless. Corpse-like look in your eyes. I won't bite, unlike your new teammate! Pick up the phone for the next call, or I swear, I'll get a flight over and make you uncomfortable in person. I'm no total stranger, we've danced for years."  
  
He rereads his message multiple times before finally pressing the send button. He doesn't add his name purely because he thinks Messi is LESS likely to take a call from him named than he is from a stranger who assures that he knows them. Messi can put the phone down on an idiot stalker and block the number after all. It could be that he is asleep, or busy, or not near his phone, but Cristiano isn't so sure and isn't willing to wait. the hair at the back of his neck is up, his hands are tingling, shaking slightly, his body is tense, on edge, his heart quickened and his stomach was playing up again in anticipation.  
  
He cannot wait any longer, he snatches the phone back up and hits the number again, pressing the phone hard up against his ear. He listens intently as he hears the phone connect again and ring, he is sure his ears twitch as it rings, about three short rings and a soft click is heard and then he can hardly believe it as he hears a soft clear of the throat answer the phone.  
  
"Dancing...for how long?" comes the equally quiet voice, the words measured, and as far as he can tell with no curiosity or life to them whatsoever. He recognises the accent immediately however and knows it is the man he wanted to speak to, needed to.  
  
Cristiano is caught speechless for a moment, he hadn't expected such a response anyway.  
  
"Ah," he falters before swallowing and closing his eyes, allowing his tone to lighten and sound casual and fairly nonchalant, but not arrogant "It is like you were sent just to piss me off in my dancing competitions, you are such a showboat." he finally says, his tone semi-jovial and good naturedly teasing to begin.  
  
"Uh." not even an exasperated sigh came from the other end "Ronaldo?" comes the deadened voice. "If you have managed to dig up my contact details in order to laugh at me, I'm afraid I just...can't..." he falters.  
  
Cristiano is frowning more, his shoulders have sunk. He isn't sure this is the Messi he hardly knows in the first place. He doesn't even attempt to finish his last reply before Cristiano feels the need to jump in again to try and break some of the tension, to try and lighten him up a little, the urge to lift him up just a little is strong, overwhelming, he doesn't normally feel the need to do something this badly unless his own team is one down and need to come back harder.  
  
"I'm not calling to laugh at you..." he starts, but is cut off by Messi who has finally collected his thoughts enough to continue speaking.  
  
"I'll carve your name and face into the stupid golden ball tonight with my fingernails and send it first class to your house if it will save me just a little publicity or interest from you. Besides, there is plenty of time to gloat this year when I arrive back in...Spain." he finishes. His words are slow, his sentences drawn out, no energy behind them.  
  
"Lionel....I am not contacting you to gloat!" his words coming out a little hotter than he hoped. "I don't want your fucking...golden ball." he sneers. "As much as the carving in the gold might reflect my skin..." he adds, a little softer as he catches his temper and tries to pull it back with humour - one of the only ways he knows how.  
  
"Listen to me, I wanted to HELP. When I saw you last night. I think I have felt the same way, somewhat. I think I..." he was cut off then by the driest, quietest laugh he thinks he has ever heard.  
  
"Really now?" Messi returns a little more quickly this time, a little louder "Of course you have." he mocks. Something Cristiano hadn't heard in his tone before.  
  
"Do you have anyone there? How much longer are you there? When do you come back to Barcelona, Lionel? For fucks sake." Cristiano pushes then, more insistently. There is no reply for the longest time and he wonders if Messi has gone, but he thinks he detects the smallest of sounds...small gasps perhaps coming from the other end of the line.  
  
"How could you possibly _help_? I will be fine. Don't worry yourself about it - what could you possibly....I mean...you have no...ugh. I should think I'll be back to annoy your try for dominance in the new season. That is what you care about, yes?"  
  
The click of Messi putting the phone down seems to echo in his brain. Before he had even finished putting the phone back on the counter, Cristiano shouts out "SHIT! Fucking fuck fucker! You're right, why the fuck am I...." as if Messi could hear him if he shouted it as he pulls his tablet back in front of him.  
  
He continues to curse and mumble under his breath even as he pulls out his credit card from his wallet and pays for the plane ticket to South America over the tablet. Great. South America. Again. He felt sick, not just for the travel, but due to the worry for his stupid football 'enemy'.

Why? He wished he had never watched the final yesterday. Things could have been so much simpler.


	3. Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano Ronaldo keeps his promises. Even if this one may not be entirely appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you continue to enjoy if you have been! :). These chapters seem to be getting longer and longer, even though I was trying to limit them at first, oh well!

Panicking about things outright wasn't really something he did - as far as he could control it anyway. He knew he had jumped rather far ahead of himself and the details he had...what details? He shouldn't have bought the tickets so quickly. He could have found out all the information before buying the tickets, or at least tried to find out the information before buying them. Almost a full day had passed since the frustrating phone call and the purchase of the tickets - in that time he had mostly debated who he could, if at all possible, privately ask for the information he needed.   
  
He couldn't just travel on all these planes there to just turn up in Argentina and expect an information stand to give him directions to a private residence. As ridiculous as the thought was he didn't smile even as it played out in his head, instead it just made him frown further. There was an easier way of doing this, he could easily contact people for a bit of help and assistance. People he knew would have the information, or be able to get the information effortlessly enough by asking friends or even family members. The problem with that was he didn't want to have to ask anyone for the help, he wanted to keep it to himself. He didn't want any of these people wondering what was happening, or perhaps contacting Messi and asking what was going on or if he was expecting a visitor.  
  
Visitor? Maybe. Visitors were sometimes very much unwanted. Unwanted visitor was fine, it wouldn't be a terrible thing if he turned up and was completely dismissed and then ignored. Initially he hadn't thought it would be a problem, he hadn't thought Messi would simply ignore him, especially if he arrived on his doorstep - but after that phone call he wasn't so sure. The idea of a door being slammed on him was quite foreign to him. Why would anyone act in that way? The idea of Messi actually being there and opening his own door and then not being very willing to talk to him or let him in was fine - he could work with that, the idea of someone else answering the door for him, or even being there - that was more of a problem and he hardly knew the other mans schedule.  
  
Cristiano realised he had spent the last couple of hours staring at a tree in the garden as he thought, through a window in his kitchen no less. He felt tense again, started to feel that gnawing worry again, this time it was a little more extreme as he had a flight to catch later in the day. He had spent the morning packing a few things he might need - packing extremely light - something he wasn't really used to either. Light enough to avoid having to check any luggage anyway. That had distracted him well enough this morning while he thought on a way to get the needed address. With no luck he had come in to the kitchen intending to make something to eat and promptly forgotten to eat. Maybe that gnawing feeling was hunger? No, the idea of food on top of that made him feel sick.  
  
Turning he looked at the phone in his hand and finally contacted two people - one a friend, one merely an acquaintance he didn't know very well anymore, asking them for full privacy regarding this matter, and if they could help him out. Sliding the phone in to a pocket he went to his fridge to get a drink, if nothing else - finding himself stretching his torso and limbs all over again to try and relieve the knot in his stomach and tension in his mind.

  
  
  
                                                                                                                         ******

 

  
He was playing it dangerously close! Already at the airport, already in the first class lounge and already settled down. The lounge was mercifully almost completely empty and the airport had been very busy, he couldn't have planned up till now better. Amazing how much easier it was to travel when you did so at random, no time for people to find out, turn up and bother you. Infact most of his travel was uninterrupted.   
  
Staring down at the phone in his hands he sighed and flicked the screen back on, still no contact. He was becoming more and more worried, he had hoped he would know where he was going BEFORE he landed at the destination country. Knowing the correct city was all well and good, but arriving there and still waiting for information on where to go - not his idea of fun. He needed more control than this, he hated the fact that there was nothing he could do but wait.   
  
He was beginning to consider asking a couple of other people who might be able to help him sooner, even if it meant lots of questioning when his phone vibrated in his hand, for a moment he just stared at the brightened screen, not sure he had actually felt the message come through or if he was imagining things. As he opened the message he noticed one of the workers in the first class lounge come up beside him and the small handful of other passengers, asking them to start boarding for the first flight. Nodding to her briefly his attention was on the message he had just received:  
  
"Well okay. Hope I don't come to regret this. You remember it isn't from me and I remember nothing! Here:"  
  
Came the jokey response, but more importantly right underneath it, it included a full address. Cristiano finally stood to board the plane, sighing with relief. He thought he should feel relief anyway, instead he sort of felt like a child who had just finished their speech to be given in front of a huge crowd for the first time. Relieved it was ready, anxious and worried about the event itself...

  
  
  
                                                                                                                          ******

 

  
  
The flights went without a hitch, even with the two stops before finally landing in Rosario. Fairly used to airports without help it didn't take him long to navigate through and out of the terminals, taking the time to adjust his watch to local time of just before 9PM, having ordered a taxi on arrival he did not rush out as he had a bit of extra time. It took him a few minutes to find the correct area and taxi once outside.  
  
He felt rather satisfied with himself as he climbed in to the back of the car and confirmed the address. So far things were going smoothly, getting here anyway. The taxi driver was thankfully a quiet one, who apart from a few pleasantries when he first got in the vehicle then fell silent, perhaps seeing how tired the other man looked. Cristiano did notice that he looked in to his rear-view mirror fairly often, and earlier on adjusted it as if to be able to see him better. Despite all the glances he did not try and speak to him, which Cristiano was grateful for, he felt exhausted. Flat-lying chairs on planes were all well and good, but he found once he was up in the air it was almost impossible to sleep well. Maybe ten minutes passed before he succumbed to the movement of the car and fell asleep.

  
                                                                                                                              *  
"Hey...hey!"  
  
He woke with a start as he felt the shaking to his arm and it took him more than a few seconds to remember where he was and what was going on. He looked out the dark car window and back to the taxi driver who had turned in his seat and was staring at him;  
  
"Yes, sorry. I..uh...how much is it I owe you?" he questioned, his voice rough from the dry air in the flights he coughed and wished he had something to drink, his mouth was so dry. After paying the taxi driver he grabbed his bag and left the car, he waited until the car had driven off and he could no longer see its lights before he finally looked around where he had been dropped off. Pulling his phone from his pocket he double checked the address again and was both pleasantly surprised and suddenly worried that he had been dropped off just feet away from his destination.  
  
"I should have thought this through..." he said quietly to himself as he stared at the residence in the distance. Checking the time it was now a little past 10PM, the house looked fairly dark. Not only was it relatively late, but he was tired, groggy and no doubt not up to his standards of presentation. Too late now to find and check in to a hotel where he could have showered, slept, ate and prepared himself for this...or even just drop off his luggage and grab a drink and decide on what to actually say.  
  
Curse all this planning and worrying! He threw caution to the wind and strode forward confidently, once past a gate on the residence he left his luggage by a wall where it would be sheltered and unseen, that would do for now. He made his way to what he thought was the front door then, marvelling at the lack of any kind of locks, locked gates or bells up until this point he wondered if this was the wrong place afterall and his raised fist ready to knock on the door faltered for a moment as he considered this. Well, only one way to find out! He knocked firmly and then brought his arms back towards him, crossing them in front of his chest and allowing his eyes to wander over what he could see of the scenery around him in the dark.  
  
Hearing what he thought was movement within the house brought his attention back to the door and he pursed his lips, biting the inside of his cheek trying not to let any sort of nerves settle, feeling his breathing and heart rate increase he silently told himself off and told himself to calm down - no good, his heart was in his throat as the door opened and he was met with the sight of unbrushed and tousled brown hair and very dark brown eyes. Ugh, this was worse than the phone. The two of them just stared at each other for a long moment. Messi opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out, Cristiano thought he detected shock in that dark gaze, but wasn't completely sure.   
  
Instinctively he pulled on a smile and even winked at the other man "What did I warn you?" he said, his voice sounding much more confident and blasé than he actually felt, pleased to hear that though, he pressed on "I feel that the conversation didn't really cover everything, and I told you I would come here - look what you made me do. I suppose that was the plan, yes?" he cocked his head just slightly, still smiling. Trying not to be TOO overbearing as he really, really didn't want to get the door slammed in his face and have to go on another blind journey to find somewhere to stay, right now!   
  
Messi closed his mouth as he listened to Ronaldo, his eyes narrowed perhaps just slightly as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, let alone seeing. He finally spoke after Cristiano finished his little tangent there "I have GOT to be dreaming, this is just a dream. Surely?" he said quietly.  
  
"A dream, not a nightmare. Correct." Cristiano shot back still with a smile, unable to help himself and once again, so desperately wanting to lift the mood and atmosphere somehow. He felt like he had arrived at a funeral home.   
  
Messi raised his eyebrows at the dream comment and from the expression on his face now realised he was definitely not dreaming. "How on earth did you...get here...find me?" he questioned then. Cristiano noted that the usual rounded shoulders on the other man were even further dropped than normal, his head bowed even further than usual, even when facing him. He didn't like it. Anyone considered his rival or equal had better face him standing straight, it needed to be fixed.  
  
"Does it matter? I have ways. I got here in the usual method, on a plane. I just booked early." he shrugged. "I do not intend to give your address to the masses, or anyone at all in fact, if that is what is worrying you. There is no photographer or camera crew waiting round the corner waiting to jump.  This is no cruel prank." he explained with a little more patience now.   
  
Messi shook his head in disbelief, lowering his eyes to the floor just in front of Ronaldo's feet as the man opposite him spoke, a hand came up to his head and brushed through the currently unruly hair, perhaps trying to smooth it a little before the hand fell back down to his side like it was shot mid motion.   
  
"What do you want from me, Cristiano?" he questioned "I just...don't understand. Why have you come all of this way? For what reason? Why are you...concerned about me?" his eyes moved up to find Cristiano's for a moment as he spoke the last part as if to search for genuine concern, but they quickly dropped, perhaps in embarrassment, perhaps a shyness or perhaps he just didn't care.  
  
Cristiano had met his gaze and tried to hold it, for the few seconds he had it, if nothing else it had calmed his rapid breathing down to not breathing at all as he returned the short stare. He hadn't expected to be so thrown back by a simple, short gaze. Frustrated at his own mixed emotions he pushed on, vowing to ignore that for now.  
  
"Could I come in? It is late and I've had some long flights and drives. Sitting down would be appreciated." he tried "Then we can talk further, no?".   
  
Messi's emotions weren't showing very well, which was tiring for the other, Messi had never been the most emotional person from what he had encountered and seen, but this new, broken Messi seemed to barely register anything on his face. It was extremely difficult for Cristiano to know how he was going to react at the best of times from how little he really knew him, let alone now. Therefore he was rather surprised but relieved when he stepped away from the entrance and held the door open for Cristiano without any further words.  
  
Wasting no time Cristiano jumped up the steps and entered the hallway, there was plenty of space in the room, but he felt himself brushing past Messi anyway. On purpose? Maybe. Slightly. Though he was sure Messi had turned slightly diagonal as he walked past him, ensuring he DID brush past him. Maybe it was in his imagination. It didn't matter if it was on purpose or not, he was surprised to feel his skin react with goose bumps and a not unpleasant chill pass through his body as he made his way to the room at the end of the entrance hall that Messi pointed toward. 


	4. No Time To Waste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When someone travels all that way to see you, surely you have to let them in and talk to them for a short while even if you would rather just close the door on them.
> 
> Cristiano's plans aren't going too bad, he hasn't been thrown out, anyway! Not that he would have ever doubted his plans, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far longer than expected, unfortunately pushed back by a lot of pain in a leg/hip injury. It seems to be behaving now, so time to get caught up! :). Hope you enjoy!

The room Messi had pointed him towards turned out to be a dining room attached to a kitchen. He glanced around the room taking it in while waiting for the other man to catch up to him in this room. It seemed Messi was in no rush to get there, taking his time coming through the hallway and in to the room, perhaps considering what he was going to say or how he was going to deal with this, Cristiano did not think too much on it, waiting by a large table, resting one hand against it as he did so. He considered the movement from Messi earlier, but decided he was reading too much in to it. He was probably just getting ready to close the door behind him. Despite this thought, his stomach still ached anyway.   
  
Messi barely looked up as he entered the room, raising one hand and his head only briefly to gesture to the table as he walked past Cristiano and pulled out a chair, sitting on the edge of it, body rocked slightly forward, hands clasped in front of him and eyes on his hands for now. Cristiano pulled a slight face at this but said nothing, pulling out the chair beside Messi's and purposely skidding it around to face him. He sat down lightly on the chair, but with his body pressed to the back of the chair, legs splayed and resting slightly against the other mans, hands on his knees and head raised with eyes directly looking at Messi, he made no apologies for the direct approach or closeness. It was second nature for him anyway, to get close and dive in when he wanted something. Whatever that something was.   
  
He watched Messi's face for any reaction, as casually as he had just pulled that off. He watched Messi pull in to himself further without having to move.  His eyes had become stuck on a tile on the floor below him and had glazed over, Cristiano wondered if the other man was even fully aware of his surroundings when his face fell in to this expression. He had seen it before. Mostly in interviews and arguments on the pitch - like he was not quite aware of the impact he made in these situations. Holding everything close to his chest perhaps.   
  
"So." Messi finally said, without moving a muscle.  
"So." Cristiano replied, then realised it was probably his job to speak here, being the uninvited guest. "A long way to come, I know. But nothing out of the ordinary. It could simply be my post-cup holiday." he said first.  
  
Messi's expression broke just for a moment to give a slightly incredulous look to his hands, Cristiano thought he noticed one side of his mouth lift in the tiniest of smiles. But not a happy one. He carried on speaking then;  
  
"Bullshit, I know. Honestly? I am not even sure myself why I rushed over here with so much concern...you seem to be alive, you're a grown man. Though..." he looked him over again "You seem to have lost a bit of weight, a bit of muscle." he added.  
  
Messi let out a humourless snort "Surely you know what pressure can do." he admitted. "What I don't understand...we aren't friends Cristiano. What I just do not see is why you would come here? Of all people?" he questioned, it seemed his mood had opened him up somewhat, dark eyes had finally risen to look at the other man, trained on him now, his expression was slightly confused, but something else, frustration perhaps? Cristiano was not sure.  
  
"I know that, the pressure. I know that very well, and you know I do, even if you pretend to be oblivious about me and what I am doing." he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Without thinking first he found himself putting his hand on Messi's thigh - he noted the other man had not moved his leg with a little interest. He squeezed lightly and stared back directly to the eye contact he finally had "Not friends perhaps, but are there many others out there who really know what your life can be like? Honestly?"   
  
Messi's eyes widened "What?! How can you be so sure you know me and the way things are?" he asked, suddenly standing up, he seemed somewhere inbetween dejected, energyless disbelief and quick-firing anger. Ronaldo found himself standing at the same time, hand going from thigh to shoulders to join his other hand on Messi's opposite shoulder.  
  
"For God's sake!" he shot back "Don't be an idiot. You know, deep down, I know. Better than others. Why fight it. I thought you might appreciate someone who can listen and truly UNDERSTAND. This isn't a common thing. Again, why fight it? Do you actually dislike me? Hate me?" shaking the others shoulders gently, he felt his heart in his throat, not expecting for this to take off so quickly, but not surprised either. He rarely took his time.   
  
Messi yanked back, but without enough power to get out of Cristiano's grasp "Actually I never listened to all the shit that people spoke about you! But right now you are proving yourself insufferable! " he spat back, unsure what to do about the arms on his shoulders, he stood very straight, head straight, too damn close to Ronaldo, who didn't seem to understand even a few inches of personal space, he was practically pressed against him, but Messi did not want to duck down and out of the taller mans grip. He did not have the damned energy for it and didn't want to seem bothered by it. His heart was racing.   
  
"I...see what you were trying to do here...Cristiano. That is very big of you. Yes, the bigger man and all of that. Kind of you. I just think you could have come about it another way?" he questioned, looking up again, noticing the whole time Cristiano had been staring outright. Not even a glimmer of shyness in his approach. Lionel found it hard to stare so up close, he found himself a little uncomfortable at the best of times, but this was intense. Having Ronaldo right...there. Never this close and he needed to break the tension somehow.  
  
Cristiano rolled his eyes and raised a brow, shaking his head in annoyance and not seeming to mind just how close they were, infact he seemed to be happier in this situation. "The bigger man! What crap! I came here because...because..." he paused, not sure how honest to be "I was concerned about you...I mean, I..." he faltered "Look at you!" he finished, the grip on Messis shoulders had gone down to the top of his arms and softened, his eyes were flicking back and forth, searching for something and if anything he was closer.  
  
Messi looked surprised at this little outburst and had nothing to say but "I'm sorry...." he was surprised even as the words left his lips. Sorry? Was he really? Yes. Sorry and felt uncomfortable at the thought of making Ronaldo more upset when he was clearly being kind. Caring about his wellbeing, enough to fly out and check up on him. Enough to practically pin him against a wall in his kitchen?   
  
Cristiano nodded just slightly, bit his lip and forced down his frustration and drive. Brushing forward close against Lionel he cocked his head to one side and...hugged him. Hard. Pressed against him and not giving the smaller man many options in this hug. At first he felt limp against him, shocked. After a few seconds he was pleased to feel the other body relax against him, and another pair of arms tentatively coming up around him in return. He thought he felt Lionel's heart racing just as fast as his own, but couldn't be sure.   
  
Messi was at a total loss and surprised, but right now - for these few seconds, he just did not care. He squeezed his eyes closed and forgot every worry just for a moment.


	5. So if I call you; don't make a fuss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moat has been bridged, the walls have been passed, and he is in the castle.
> 
> Now can Cristiano do what he intended to do, now he is here? Whatever the hell that was? 
> 
> Messi goes along with this for now, but for how long can he put up with the other mans odd behaviour, even if he is beginning to rather enjoy it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took SO long to write. Ongoing pain and real life distractions keep getting in the way, most annoyingly! But I haven't stopped writing it, still lots to come :).
> 
> As always, thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos on the previous chapters, they are so encouraging and really add drive :).

Time stood still, but it seemed it didn't want to do so for so long, not for long enough in Lionel's mind anyway. He had spent a few seconds of this tight hug in shock, another few seconds debating reacting, then half a second actually reacting with his arms and relaxation. Now he had wasted time counting. How long was the average hug? Stupid! Why think about that right now! His mind was racing, his subconscious was quickly taking in the feeling of being pressed in so close to someone he didn't really know all that well - he was lucky he had room to breathe with Ronaldos height advantage and the fact he was clinging to him like a child. A very demanding child who seemed determined to be a nuisance and not let him have time to mourn quietly! Could he not do anything quietly? 

How long had it been now? Despite all this damned thinking he hadn't yet tried to pull away from this hug, opened his eyes or loosened his arms or made any kind of move other then, if anything, to give in to it more totally. He should pull away now, this was far too long, he didn't actually feel uncomfortable, but he THOUGHT he should feel uncomfortable, which was a weird consideration. Plus he was concerned the other man might notice his less than calm pulse and too much dependence on the hug he didn't know he had needed. Hadn't needed. Maybe. 

He didn't push away or push at Cristiano's chest, but instead reached his arms up to the others upper arms at the same time as gently pulling away until he reached the wall - just a couple of inches between him and the wall after all. He felt Cristiano resist for a moment, but finally give way and allow the distanglement. Messi found himself staring at the other mans stomach for a long moment before Ronaldo finally spoke. 

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" 

Messi was surprised to hear a jovial tone to these words, surprised enough to lift his head a little and meet his eyes. He was smiling just a little, lips parted, dark eyes set on Messi watching for any sort of reaction it would seem. Lionel thought he saw a flicker of worry behind the painted on smile which surprised him much more than it should have. Lionel felt his annoyance over this whole affair soften somewhat. He let out a sigh and offered a first genuine, though small, smile. 

"I suppose not." he muttered, still watching Cristiano, he noticed the relaxation to the smile on the other mans face, his eyes now danced with the smile, rather then the whole expression seeming fixed. Well, at least it was all a bit more comfortable now, Lionel felt calmer and somewhat happier than earlier, which was a bit of a shock to him considering how just hours ago he had felt like things couldn't possibly get better, at least not soon, not quickly. 

Ronaldo took a couple of steps back then and Lionel took the opportunity to move away from the wall, he moved deeper in to the kitchen before turning back to face Ronaldo, who had turned and followed him within a few feet. 

"Well, you look exhausted. Do you have somewhere to stay? Have you eaten? Are you thirsty?" it was easy to fall back to asking general questions now the ice had been broken, even if he felt like he was being scrutinized by the other man. Just act normal and carry on, that was the easiest thing to do! 

Cristiano felt in a sort of dream-like state at the moment. He supposed the sudden reaction, the sudden trip, the sudden visit and most importantly...the reaction to all of this, well, the reaction that MATTERED in Cristiano's mind all had a dream-like quality about it. His heart was still racing from the embrace. Yes, embrace. Not just a hug, it had lasted much too long and was far too...IMPORTANT to just be a hug. His muscles had tensed and then relaxed almost marshmallow like in the few moments, maybe even minutes that they had stood silently for. He had found himself fighting the urge to move his head just slightly against Lionel's neck. Hell...he had fought off the urge to run his hands along the other mans back... 

Realising he was being spoken to he broke off his little daydream and tried to pay attention, 

"Uh, I haven't booked anywhere to stay yet, no. But that shouldn't be a problem...perhaps you can recommend something?" he asked "I have eaten, I am not thirsty no." honestly, he felt a little sick, not in the least bit hungry or thirsty, in the way someone might feel before or after a big event. Mentally he told himself off, get it together Cris! 

Messi was speaking to his neck and chest area again it seemed, his eyes having dropped, which was a shame. "Ah good," in relation to not being hungry or thirsty "Well, I'm not sure how long you intend to be here in Argentina, but you can always sort out accommodation tomorrow. I have space here for you to stay tonight...at least." 

Ronaldo definitely noticed the little break in speech before 'at least' and cocked his head, one brow raised as he nodded his head in reaction "Well thank you, that would be great..." since you, alone, are the reason I came here, it would seem a shame to go and stay somewhere else, so quickly. Of course he didn't say that outloud, just smiled agreeably and began to follow as he was led out of the kitchen. 

"Oh hey, I left my bag outside, I'll just go and grab it." he added quickly, heading back towards the hallway and then the front door, catching Messi commenting under his breath "Of course you brought it with you..." to which Cristiano shot a wide, open mouthed smile, eyebrow waggle and wink. 

Annoyingly, Messi felt ever so slightly, EVER so slightly...charmed. He sighed and waited at the end of the hall as Ronaldo disappeared off out the front door, leaving it open. He could just about see the outline of him jogging across the lawn before he went out of view. Seconds later he was back in the house carrying a small bag. Messi turned around then and headed to the bottom of the stairs, making his way up them, he noticed that Cristiano had stopped by the stairs, not following him. He looked back. 

"Follow me? I'll show you a room you can use?" he said, the comment coming out more like a question. 

Cristiano looked up at him, innocent expression on his face as he started to climb the first stairs "Oh, what? You aren't going to offer to take my bag? How rude." he quipped, eyes wide and serious, mouth curled enough to spoil the innocent expression. 

"Psch!" and a hand shake was all Messi could answer with, shaking his head he turned around and continued to climb the stairs, he couldn't help the smile that crept on to his face though at the terrible humour offered up by his visitor. He resisted the urge to laugh, he wouldn't let him win! 

Arriving at the top of the stairs he led him now humming guest to a door and opened it, standing to one side to allow him to move in to the room which he did easily enough. Looking around the room and laying the case on the bed, before turning to face Messi and speaking, this time serious it would seem, 

"Thank you...no really, thank you. I know this is strange to you, no doubt. But hey. You've handled it well and hopefully I can help you out over the next little while." all spoken as he reached out and grabbed Messi's hand, holding it between both of his, squeezing tightly, like an aunt that hadn't seen him in so long. Messi nodded in return. 

"Well, we shall see about that, Cristiano. Now, do you have everything you need? The sheets are all fresh, bathroom is through there, I'm a few doors down if you need me for anything." 

Cristiano nodded "Well, not EVERYTHING in life, but this will do for now." he smirked. "Sleep well, Leo." 

Closing the door behind him slightly amused for some reason at the use of 'Leo', not that he minded, Lionel made his way to his own room. Not everything indeed? Did Cristiano like to confuse or frustrate? It was going to be a long 'few' days. Despite it all, he didn't feel so...heavy.


	6. It's Just a Silly Phase I'm Going Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano is restless and not feeling very tired at all, plus he is pretty sure Leo had mentioned if there was anything he needed just let him know? Should he test that theory? Does he know what it is he wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the support. This chapter came about quicker this time, thank goodness. Will try and keep to some kind of schedule in future! :)
> 
> I really hope those reading are still enjoying :). As always, comments and kudos are very very welcome!

Looking around the sparsely decorated, but comfortable room Cristiano took in the items of furniture, any sort of decorative pieces and the one door which could be a bathroom, but he guessed it was more likely to be a closet. A bathroom was what he needed but for now he sat on the edge of the made up bed, placing his suitcase beside him, hands running over the bedding for a moment absent mindedly as he realised he wasn't all that tired after sleeping on the flight and in the taxi. Mentally tired perhaps, and it would be nice to stretch his limbs out and lay flat on the bed, but he wasn't sure he would get much sleep tonight.  
  
Suddenly restless he stood up from the bed and grabbed the suitcase, walking over to a chair situated by the closet he placed the suitcase on there and unzipped it, eyes rifling through the belongings he located and removed the washbag and threw it over to the bed. Grabbing the handle of the what he assumed was a closet he checked inside - as he had guessed it was a pretty much empty cupboard - only housing a couple of boxes and a few lone hangers on the upper rack. Closing the door he spun round and moved over to the one window in the room and pulled on the blinds, closing them. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing him, he just wouldn't appreciate the morning light very much if he slept badly.  
  
He removed his shoes, jacket and shirt, leaving his jeans on and left the clothes draped on the chair, padding back to the door and trying to quietly enter the hallway, grabbing the washbag on the way. He smiled a little wickedly to himself as he remembered Lionel's comment of 'if you need me for anything' and was tempted to burst in the room to collect on that 'anything'. Not sure which door was the bathroom he walked quietly past the door he had watched the other man go through and started to try others, finding a large closet, another bedroom and then finally a bathroom at the end of the hall. Closing the door quietly behind him he noticed that just the thought of collecting on that anything had made him feel a little strange - nervous and very alert when he should be slowing down and getting ready to sleep. Trying to push it out of his mind he began to wash.

  
  
                                                                                                                                       ***

  
  
Lionel had already got himself ready to retire to bed for the night so didn't need to use the bathroom, which would probably work out better, he thought, since no doubt his visitor would need to use it after all that traveling. Moving quietly around his own bedroom, he noticed he couldn't hear the other man at all and for a moment he wondered if he had imagined it all. Don't be stupid - he thought, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he undressed and slipped in to his bed in underwear.  
  
He laid staring at the ceiling for a while, not quite ready to turn off the bedside lamp he had left on. His mind filled with thoughts as to what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had gone from moping around his house alone, ignoring most calls (partially out of trying to avoid Ronaldo, if truth be told!) and allowing himself to wallow in the feelings of absolute let down and self pity. He felt he deserved it and didn't want to have it interrupted, at least, that is what he thought he had needed. Now he was not so sure. In just a couple of hours, someone who he had only known professionally had turned that on its head and invited himself in to his house and had managed to be invited to stay, by himself.  
  
He could hardly believe the words had left his lips to be honest, but found himself smiling up at the ceiling as he thought about it and the whole situation around it. Ronaldo was proving to be a distraction if nothing else. A good distraction so far even if the situation in the kitchen had confused things a little. Lionel knew it wasn't very normal was the other man had done - tracking him down, flying here, grabbing him like that...grabbing? But he hadn't stopped it or tried to halt it. He hadn't felt too awkward around him, despite thinking he might do. After all; the amount the press rooted around for a hate and bitter rivalry story between the two players - he could hardly be blamed if he had started to believe it! The reality was Lionel was of course competitive, but he didn't loose sleep if the older man scored more than him in a season. He wasn't stalking articles about him and making voodoo dolls like some journalists tried to make it seem - if they could be called 'journalists' anyway.  
  
The rather overbearing hug? Well he didn't know Cristiano. Not well enough that he could say that that was strange. Perhaps that was normal for him. Lionel was used to strangers hugging him a little too much or too hard, he just hadn't expected it from Ronaldo! Turning slightly to the side he reached out to the lamp and switched it off, closing his eyes he tried to sleep.

  
  
                                                                                                                                       ***

  
  
Finished in the bathroom Cristiano checked his reflection one last time and grimaced at himself. Well it was pretty much decided then? Puffing out his cheeks at his image he turned from the mirror and grabbed the hanging light switch, turning it off and leaving his washbag on the side in the bathroom, tidily of course. He made his way out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, not too concerned with noise this time, he walked along the hallway.  
  
Afterall, why bother being quite so quiet with his current intentions? Making his way down the hallway he found his hand reaching out for the handle of the door of the room that Messi had disappeared in to. His heart was racing at a rate he swore he could hear his pulse in his head  and he needed a couple of moments to calm down a little. He wanted to seem calm and collected after all. Resting his hand on the handle he stared at the wood of the door for a long moment, allowing his heart rate and stomach to settle a little and trying to swallow his heart back down in to his damned chest. Telling himself he wasn't normally this rude as to just storm in to some ones private room without knocking first however. His free hand raised up and he knocked once, not waiting for an answer he opened the door, slipped inside and closed the door behind him all in one swift motion.  
  
He could barely see a thing. No lights on in the room and the blinds only open enough to allow a tiny bit of grey light in from the night sky, he rested against the door for a moment, letting his vision adjust as his eyes searched the room for his host. Eventually resting on the bed in the room, where said host was sitting up in the bed looking beyond alarmed, dark eyes wide, hair disheveled, mouth open in surprise, he stuttered as he addressed his bedroom invader;  
  
"Uh...wh...what do you think you, I mean, what is wrong? Do you need something?" Lionel spluttered, staring silently then as Cristiano made his way across the room and boldly sat at the edge of the bed beside the blanketed Messi. It occurred to Cris that the other man might find this behaviour threatening, and he didn't want to scare him and make him think he was insane...well, not totally so anyway.  
  
"Sorry to alarm you, it's just earlier you told me to let you know if there was anything I needed?" Cristiano said, head cocking to the side slightly, widening his eyes and trying to look innocent and affable.  
  
"Uh...yes, of course, if I can...but what could you possibly need right now?" came the response from the other man as he shifted slightly in the bed, pulling the covers up a bit higher and turning a little so he was facing Cristiano more head on, obviously a little over dazzled by this whole event by now, he didn't even question the fact that he had come in to his bedroom and sat down beside him in nothing but some jeans it would seem.  
  
Cris smiled the same wide, damned charming smile again before nodding slightly "Well, lets see if you can..."  
  
Next thing Lionel knew Cristiano had dipped quickly towards him and had covered his lips with his own. He wasn't sure how, but someone surely had let off fireworks, as he was sure he had heard something loudly bang before everything had gone very quiet and a little numb indeed. That or the shock had finally killed him and he was having some sort of out of body experience. WHAT?!  
  
Everything was so, very, wrong about this situation, or at least it should be and yet once again he didn't pull away, in fact he felt himself naturally lean forward and shift his head to the side slightly. It seemed that Cristiano took that as a thumbs up to his question and what had started as soft and unsure deepened and he felt hands come up gently to his shoulders.  
  
Hmm, maybe THIS was the imagining or dreaming part?  


**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.


End file.
